Heroes and Villains
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: What if Batman wasn't the hero Gotham deserved, or the hero of Gotham at all? What if the real hero was a man the world knew as the Clown Prince of Crime? Thanks to blackcat9517 for the amazing suggestion! :-)
1. Chapter 1

**Heroes and Villains**

The Batsignal shone brightly in the dark, cloudy sky, as Comissioner Gordon stood by it, smoking a cigar and watching the shadows move across the clouds. Light blending into darkness so quickly that he almost couldn't distinguish which was which. A black bat silhoutted against blinding white light. A Dark Knight fighting for goodness, order, and right…

"Jim," said a voice. Gordon turned to see Batman landing on the roof, nodding at him.

"We've got a problem," sighed Gordon. "Scarecrow's targeting Gotham's water supply. He's threatening to contaminate it with fear gas unless we give him two million dollars in cash tonight. But the good news is we've discovered his location. One of my guys saw him entering an abandoned warehouse on the East Side of the docks. The mayor's ordered me to organize a raid, but if you'd be willing to handle this for us…"

Batman nodded. "Say no more, Jim," he said. "The Scarecrow will be back in Arkham tonight."

Gordon smiled. "I knew I could count on you," he sighed. "I dunno what this city would ever do without you, Batman. You're Gotham's greatest hero."

"I'm no hero," replied Batman. "Just a man trying to do what he believes to be right in an evil world."

He leapt off the rooftop and flew off into the night. Gordon smiled after him. "Good luck, Batman," he murmured. "The hopes of all decent people are going with you."

…

Jonathan Crane, otherwise known as the Scarecrow, sat alone in the warehouse, jumping at every sound and shadow. The drip of the water made him start, a cloud passing across the moon made fear beat like a drum in his chest. Crane was meant to be the Master of Fear – this was the persona that had been established for him through years of terror. But in reality, he was utterly terrified, even more so when a deep voice said from out of the shadows, "You were seen."

Crane's heart seized up as he recognized that voice, and looked up in horror to see the tall, dark, caped figure of the Batman. "W…what?" Crane stammered, aghast.

"You were seen," repeated Batman, coldly. "Cop saw you coming in here. Gordon was tipped off. He was meant to organize a raid, but fortunately he called me in instead. What do you have to say for yourself, Crane?"

"I…I'm sorry," stammered Crane. "I didn't mean to be seen…I was very careful…"

"Not careful enough!" shouted Batman, furiously. "Jesus Christ, Crane, what kinda game do you think this is?! You think I got time for mistakes?! You think I'm just gonna forgive people who fail me?! Do you?!"

"N…no, sir," gasped Crane. "But I didn't…"

Batman seized him by the collar and lifted him off his feet. "Listen to me, you snivelling little worm!" he hissed. "The only reason you and all your little friends are free and running around is because I want you to be! The only reason you do what you do is because I tell you to! And the only reason you're still alive is because I allow you to remain that way! And what do you think will happen if people find out that Batman is the one who's letting you out, and letting you roam free, and telling you to commit crimes and extort money?! What do you think will happen when they realize that I'm the mastermind behind this ridiculous game of theatrical crimes and insane personas?! Tell me!"

"I think…you would not be considered a hero," gasped Crane.

"No, it would be a lot worse than that," growled Batman. "I would be arrested. Locked up in that dump Arkham or some goddamn prison somewhere, like the rest of your freaks! But I'm not like the rest of you, do you understand me?! I am the master, and you all are my willing slaves, at my beck and call, catering to my every whim! When I say rob a bank and bring me the loot, you rob a bank! When I say attack an orphanage so I can have good publicity for stopping you, you do that! And when I say extort two million dollars from this city, what do you do?!"

"Extort…two million dollars," stammered Crane.

"Wrong," hissed Batman. "That's what you're supposed to do. But that's not what you did, is it, Crane? And you know what happens to failures, don't you?"

"No," gasped Crane. "No, no, please, Batman, don't send me back to Arkham again! The doctors there…the torture they inflict…it's unbearable!"

"Oh, I will send you back to Arkham, Crane," hissed Batman, dropping him to the ground. "But not yet. First I gotta punish you for failing me. Y'know I was taught martial arts by the best. I know how to break a bone in ten places. Let's start with your spine, shall we?" he muttered, raising his fist.

The docks were deserted, so nobody could hear the agonized screaming coming from the warehouse. About an hour later, Batman emerged, dragging a battered, bleeding, and barely conscious Scarecrow into the Batmobile.

"Professor Crane is back," said Batman as he kicked open the door to Arkham. "And I think he needs more electrotherapy."

Dr. Ezekial Arkham turned and smiled at Batman. "Yes, I think you're right, Batman," he murmured, gesturing for the orderlies to take Crane away. Crane screamed and struggled as he was dragged away, but the doors to the cell block shut and locked behind him.

"Good therapy is so expensive these days," sighed Dr. Arkham, holding out his hand and smiling.

Batman reached into his utility belt and slipped him a small wad of cash. "I'll bust him out when I feel like it," he muttered. "Enjoy the therapy."

"I always do!" said Dr. Arkham, grinning.

Batman strode from the asylum back into the Batmobile. He drove angrily, as his mind whirled with furious thoughts. It was stupid of Crane to have been caught, but the man was an idiot. All lunatics were – that's why Batman had chosen them to be his minions. They were stupid enough to shut up and do as they were told, but smart enough to cower in fear of him. And crazy enough that no one would believe them if they told anyone that Batman was running his own criminal racket from within Gotham City, using threats, blackmail, and bribery to force the lunatics to execute elaborate plots and schemes, which Batman masterminded, of course. The aim of these was simple – good publicity. As long as costumed freaks threatened Gotham, Batman would always be its hero, rather than just some bullying vigilante. And, he had to admit it, it was a lot of fun too. Batman was a man who had grown up with every available pleasure at his fingertips, but the only thing that really made him happy was violence. Plotting crimes and getting others to take the fall for them, and then getting to beat them up afterwards was like a dream come true, and it was a stroke of genius that he had thought of it.

But it wasn't all fun and games – money was a big reason too. The Wayne family fortune had been quickly squandered through Batman's youthful excesses, and he had no interest in working for his cash. That was long and hard and boring. Crime and extortion were much more fun and interesting, except when his minions failed him, like Crane tonight. He needed another villain to try a similar game. A good one. One who didn't fail…Joker.

Batman's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the Joker, but at least he didn't fail. Joker was skilled, talented, and always put up a good fight. So good, in fact, that Batman sometimes suspected that Joker really meant to kill him. It was no secret that they loathed each other – that made their fights much more realistic, so Batman didn't mind. He did mind, however, when Joker proved insolent, which was all the time. He was a real troublemaker, not as easily cowed as the others. And Batman had been meaning to teach him a lesson for a long time.

Well, he'd do it right after Joker did this job for him, he thought resolutely. It was long overdue. Batman's other rogues feared and respected him. Joker did neither. Joker was constantly defiant, and heedless of his personal safety. He could only be cowed when Batman threatened violence to his wife, a dumb little broad called Harley Quinn. Dumb but, Batman had to admit it, pretty hot. Batman had promised himself that he'd have her someday, someday when Joker wasn't around to protect her. It would be a simple matter of intimidation, threats, and violence. It was how he got everything he wanted.

The Batmobile pulled up in the Batcave, and Batman climbed out. He looked around at the empty cave and headed for the stairs with a growl of annoyance. The butler who had been with the Wayne family for two generations, some old geezer called Alfred, had been fired by Bruce years ago – he had never liked him anyway. And Bruce preferred his servants to be more pleasing to the eyes.

"Selina!" he shouted at the top of the stairs. "Where the hell are you?! I expected you to be waiting with a drink!"

"Get it yourself, you bastard!" shouted a voice from the living room. Batman flicked on the lights to see Selina Kyle seated on the sofa, clutching a bottle of vodka in one hand, tears and mascara streaming down her cheeks.

"What…did…you…say?" hissed Batman.

"I said get it yourself!" she snapped, glaring at him. "I'm not your goddamn slave, Bruce, and I won't be treated like this anymore…"

Batman struck her a harsh blow across the face. "Don't talk back to me, you little whore!" he hissed. "And don't you ever…EVER insult me again! You owe everything to me! Without me, you'd still be some petty criminal stealing cash to keep you off the streets! Who gives you all your goddamn jewelry and diamonds, you ungrateful slut?! I should call the police right now and tell 'em I've apprehended Catwoman! You think they wouldn't arrest you?!"

"I think jail would be preferable to staying here with you any longer," hissed Selina, furiously.

"It wouldn't be jail, you dumb bitch," snapped Batman. "It would be Arkham."

Selina's eyes widened. "No…no, please, Bruce, I didn't mean…"

"Y'see, you gotta be crazy to have these cat delusions, don't you, Selina?" interrupted Batman, softly. "Yes, your fixation on cats, your cat persona…I believe Dr. Arkham would be very interested in trying to pick your brain."

"No, no, Bruce, I'm sorry," gasped Selina. "Here…here, I'll get your drink…"

She staggered to her feet, pouring a glass of scotch and holding it out to him. Batman smashed it on the ground, seizing her by the hair. "You are on very thin ice, Selina," he hissed. "One more outburst like that, and I'll have you bundled off to Arkham in a straightjacket like the rest of the freaks. Don't think you're special to me in any way. I got an army of women who wanna be the Batman's mistress. Poison Ivy was dropping hints just the other day. So shape up or you're out. You understand?!"

"Yes, Bruce," she gasped.

"Now kiss me," he muttered.

She obeyed, ripping off his mask and sliding her hand down to his belt. He shoved her away. "I got business right now," he muttered. "Go to bed and I'll be in soon."

Selina raced off. Batman strode over to the telephone and dialled a number.

…

The loud ringing woke Harley Quinn from a very sound sleep. She rolled over, out of the Joker's arms, to pick up the phone. He grunted slightly in sleep, shifting closer to her and embracing her again. Harley smiled as she said, "Hello?"

"Harley, baby, it's the B-man," murmured a familiar voice. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh…hi," stammered Harley, the smile falling from her face and being replaced with a look of fear and disgust. "You wanna talk to…Mr. J?"

"No, I wanna talk to you, sweetheart," murmured Batman. "I asked you what you're wearing."

"Uh…nightgown," she said, slowly.

"Be more specific," said Batman. "How short is it, and how much can you see through it?"

"Harley? Who is it?" muttered Joker.

"It's…uh…him, Mr. J," whispered Harley, putting her hand over the receiver. "He wants me to…tell him what I'm wearing."

Joker's eyes narrowed and he grabbed the phone from her. "She's wearing something only I'm allowed see," he growled. "What the hell do you want at this time of night?"

"No need to be rude, J, not when I'm about to offer you a job," retorted Batman.

"I'm not interested," said Joker, firmly.

"You will be," said Batman. "When I tell you how much is in it for…"

"I don't want your money," interrupted Joker.

"But you do want your wife to be kept safe, huh?" asked Batman, quietly. "Gotham's a dangerous city, you know, J. A lot can happen to a pretty young thing like Harley in a hellhole like this. So just how precious is she to you?"

Joker was silent. "What's the job, and where do I need to be?" he muttered.

"You need to be at the Funnibone Shipping Warehouse tomorrow night at ten," said Batman. "I'll explain everything there. Crane was meant to do it, but he failed me. I hope you don't as well, for Harley's sake."

The phone went dead and Joker looked at it, hanging it back up slowly. "What did he want, Mr. J?" asked Harley, gazing at him with wide, blue eyes full of worry.

"He wants me for a job tomorrow night," muttered Joker.

"You ain't gonna do it, are you?" asked Harley.

"I don't have a choice," he retorted. "You know how he owns this city. If I refused, something bad would happen. He'd make it happen."

He took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "I couldn't bear to lose you, Harley," he whispered.

"Mr. J, let's go away," she whispered, tears trailing down her cheeks as she hugged him in return. "Let's leave Gotham, go somewhere else, somewhere far away from the Bat, where he can't find us…"

"He's the World's Greatest Detective, Harley," interrupted Joker. "He'll find us wherever we go. He wouldn't let us escape with all we know about him."

"But who would believe us?" pressed Harley. "I mean, we're crazy. Look at us. We're crazy, nobody would listen to us, nobody would care about two psychopaths like us. Nobody would…listen…"

She burst into tears and he shushed her. "You're right, Harley," he murmured. "Nobody would listen to us. Who would believe that we're not the bad guys, after all this time? Who would believe that it's all an elaborate set-up by a deranged and brilliant mind? Nobody. They'd think it was a joke, Harl. Just like everything we'd have to say."

Harley continued to sob, and he kissed her forehead tenderly. "One great, big, horrible joke," he whispered, looking out at the night sky, where the Batsignal still shone brightly against the clouds.


	2. Chapter 2

"…the Joker and his accomplice Harley Quinn killed eight security guards and escaped with nearly two million dollars in cash from the First National Bank. Batman arrived too late to stop the perpetrators escaping, but has vowed to bring them to justice…"

Harley switched off the news and over to another channel. She wished to God this whole city wasn't so obsessed with Batman – she was sick of hearing about him. She looked over at the bags of cash beside the sofa, and at her harlequin costume hanging over the radiator, still covered in spots of blood that wouldn't wash out. She felt tears come to her eyes. She hated herself for having to do this, steal things and kill people. Mr. J hated it too. If Batman didn't force them to do these terrible things, they would be perfectly content to live quietly and happily somewhere together, somewhere far away. In a place without darkness and night and monstrous men in bat costumes.

"Coming up on Criminal Profiles, we take a look at the twisted life and mind of the Joker's abused and degraded henchgirl and sometime girlfriend, Harley Quinn…"

"Wife," hissed Harley angrily at the TV. "I'm his wife."

They had been married a few years ago, a marriage nobody in this city recognized, claiming neither of them were of sound mind when it happened. But Harley knew the truth.

"A promising young psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, Dr. Harleen Quinzel was manipulated by the Joker to help him escape from the asylum…"

Yes, that was true, to an extent, thought Harley. She had taken up a job at Arkham believing that it was a mental institution dedicated to helping the insane. She had been sorely mistaken. After a week there, she realized the place was no more than a facility dedicated to torturing, demeaning, and sometimes killing those imprisoned within its walls. She and the other doctors were paid off by Dr. Arkham to keep silent about the conditions within the facility. Harley had hated taking the money, but she was afraid of what would happen to her if she informed the police about what was going on in Arkham. And then one day she had seen the Joker. She had watched him being tortured by Dr. Arkham, watched how bravely he had taken the beatings of the guards. When he was returned to his cell, she rushed to see to his wounds, and they began talking. Harley fell desperately in love with him, and couldn't stand to see him tortured anymore. She managed a daring escape attempt, one that nearly cost both their lives, for the security in Arkham was insanely tight. Nobody ever escaped from there without Batman and Dr. Arkham's permission. But Harley had managed it. And after that she vowed to help the Joker fight against the monster Batman, to take care of him and to love him. She had never regretted her decision.

"After the Joker broke her mind and used her to escape, Harleen assumed the criminal identity of Harley Quinn, hoping this pathetic gesture would help please the man she believed she was in love with. Far from it. Hundreds of witnesses have seen Harley physically and mentally abused by the man she blindly insists loves her. We interviewed Dr. Arkham, the man in charge of Arkham Asylum, who told us that Harley was never a particularly bright individual, using her looks and charms to put herself through college by seducing her professors. She was, in his own words, a mediocre doctor, and clearly a sad, pathetic woman, no more than another victim of the Joker's cruel and depraved mind…"

"I didn't work my way through seven years of medical school to be called stupid by some quack of a doctor," muttered Harley, flicking off the TV as tears fell from her eyes.

"What's that, pooh?" asked the Joker, emerging from the kitchen with two plates of food. He was smiling at her, but that smile faded instantly when he saw the tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, baby, what's all this?" he asked, putting down the plates and sitting down on the sofa, wiping her tears away gently.

"They're doing a special on me," whispered Harley, nodding at the TV. "Harley Quinn, the Joker's abused and stupid little henchwench…"

"Aw, now, pumpkin, you can't start caring about what a bunch of stupid reporters think," he murmured.

"It ain't just the reporters, Mr. J," she whispered. "It's everyone."

"Yeah. And everyone thinks Batman is a hero," murmured Joker. "Everyone's blind, Harley. They only see what they wanna see. They're the crazy ones, not us. Don't you ever forget that. And don't you ever let them make you feel small and sad and pathetic. You ain't any of that."

He kissed her tenderly. "How do you think it would look if the world knew that the Joker, the evil, heartless psychopath who terrorizes Gotham night after night, was madly and completely in love with Harley Quinn?" he whispered. "It would look like he had a heart, somewhere in that thin, emaciated, clown frame of his. And see, Bats couldn't have that. If people started thinking the Joker had a heart, they might begin to wonder why he committed these terrible crimes. And then they might, gradually, stumble upon the truth – that he doesn't want to commit them. That he's being controlled by someone else. So y'see why he's gotta make it look like I'm a monster. And nobody could ever love a monster but a stupid, pathetic woman who didn't have an ounce of self-respect. But don't let them make you feel like that, Harley. That ain't you, sweets. You're beautiful and strong and smart and funny and sweet, and I'm the luckiest guy in the world to have you as my wife."

He kissed her again. "It ain't me I'm concerned about, Mr. J," she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "It's you. I know I shouldn't care what people say or think about you, but when it's all so terrible, and so wrong…it's hard to take sometimes."

"Hey, you know me, baby," he said, smiling. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. And you gotta just smile your way through the sticks and stones. And you're the reason I do that, kiddo," he said, smiling as he tilted her chin up. "I could never be happy without my Harley girl. She puts a great, big smile on my face."

"And you put one on mine, puddin'," whispered Harley, beaming at him. She pulled him down on top of her as their kisses grew more passionate, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Joker drew away slowly. "That'll be him," he muttered.

Harley sat up, straightening her clothes as Joker went to the door and opened it.

"Evening, J," said Batman, cheerfully. "Can I come in?"

"Nope," retorted Joker. "You stay there and I'll bring the money to you."

"Now that's not a very nice way to treat your guest, is it?" asked Batman, pushing past him into the room. "You really need to work on your hospitality, J. And speaking of people I'd like to be hospitable to me," he said, smiling at Harley. "You're looking beautiful tonight, Harley, all flushed like that. You're a lot prettier with color in your cheeks – you should cut out that crap clown makeup look. You'd be a lot hotter without it."

"I wear the clown makeup so people know I belong to Mr. J," retorted Harley. "And nobody else."

"No need to be touchy, baby, I'm just trying to compliment you," said Batman, shrugging. "So where's the loot, J?"

Joker handed him the sacks. "That's two million. What's my cut?"

"Cut?" repeated Batman. "Oh, you think you're going to get some of this money?"

"Yes, we had a deal that…" began Joker.

"Aw, see, the thing about deals, J, is that they're just a bunch of words," interrupted Batman. "And words have never really meant anything to me. The only way to get things is through force and violence, not talking."

"Ok," said Joker, slowly. "So why doncha hand over some of that cash before I beat you senseless?"

"You threatening me?" asked Batman.

"Mr. J, don't…" whispered Harley.

"Yeah, I am," interrupted Joker. "I did that job fair and square, and I deserve a cut of the loot. Harley and I have to eat…"

"What does the bitch eat for two million?" demanded Batman. "You should beat her expensive taste outta her, like I do for mine. But you're right, J, fair's fair," he said, pulling out a bill. "I'll give you ten bucks."

"Try multiplying that by a thousand," retorted Joker.

"You really don't wanna give me lip, J," said Batman, softly.

"Oh yes, I really do," hissed Joker.

"Mr. J, please," began Harley, cuddling against his arm. "Just let it go."

"Listen to the bitch, J," said Batman, smiling mockingly. "I guess her useless mouth is good for something besides saying stupid things in an annoying voice. Y'know, I've fantasized about shutting you up, sweetheart, by shoving something big and hard between your pretty little lips…"

Joker punched him violently across the face. He continued to beat him repeatedly, but Batman retaliated with blows of his own, and he was the stronger man. Harley screamed and tried to pull Batman away, but he struck her across the face, knocking her to the ground. When she attacked him again, he seized her by the hair and slammed her face into the wall.

"Harley!" gasped Joker, struggling to his feet and racing over to her as Batman dropped her to the ground. He caught her as she fell.

"Now look what you've done to her, Joker," murmured Batman. "Another broken nose. Whatever did poor, sweet, stupid little Harley do to deserve that?"

Joker glared up at him, blood mixed with tears streaming down his face. "I will kill you for this, Batman," he whispered.

"Maybe," agreed Batman. "But not tonight."

He grabbed Joker around the throat and slammed him against the wall, handcuffing him. "Tonight it's back to Arkham for both of you."


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh, looks like there's company to greet you at Arkham," said Batman, as the Batmobile pulled up in front of the asylum to a swarm of reporters. "I don't need to remind you to smile for the cameras, do I?"

Joker glared at him but didn't respond. "Do I?" repeated Batman, grabbing Harley around the throat and squeezing hard.

"No," he muttered.

"Great. Let's go on with the show," said Batman, opening the door to the Batmobile and dragging them out by their handcuffs.

"Batman! Batman! Where did you catch them? Did you get the money back? Batman! Have they killed anyone else? Batman!"

"Nothing to see here, folks!" chuckled Joker, forcing a smile and a laugh. "Move along!"

"Batman, just a few questions, please!" begged Vicki Vale, shoving herself forward.

Batman nodded slowly. "Make it quick," he muttered. "I need to get this scum behind bars before they hurt other innocent people. And Harley needs medical attention after the Joker beat her and broke her nose for not attacking me quickly enough."

There was a murmur of disapproval from the crowd and cameras began flashing Harley. She turned her tear-stained, bloody face toward the Joker, who smiled gently at her. "Keep smiling, baby," he whispered. "For me."

Harley nodded. "I love you, puddin'," she murmured, forcing a small smile.

"Did you manage to retrieve the two million dollars stolen in the bank robbery?" asked Vicki.

"Sadly not," replied Batman. "The Joker burned the money. He didn't commit the robbery for cash. He committed it for the fun of it. His twisted, depraved sense of humor only delights in killing, murder, and mayhem, and I am relieved that I can lock this animal up back where he belongs," he said, dragging them into Arkham as the cameras kept flashing.

"Ah, the Joker," said Dr. Arkham, looking up from his clipboard and smiling. "And Dr. Quinzel."

"Harley Quinn," whispered Harley. "The name's Harley Quinn."

Dr. Arkham sighed. "She still clings to her delusions," he murmured, smiling at Batman. "What sort of therapy do you suggest for ridding her of them?"

"I'll speak to you about it in your office," said Batman, shoving Harley at the orderlies. "After I escort this monster to his cell."

Batman dragged Joker into the cell block, past the wild, terrified faces of the other inmates. "Batman!" they shouted. "Batman! Let me out, please! You need a job? I can do the job! I can do anything, just please let me out!"

"Shut up, freaks!" shouted Batman, and the cell block instantly silenced. "I'll let you out when I feel like it! Except you, Joker," he said, shoving him into his cell. "I think you need to stay here a little longer than usual, to learn your lesson. It's really a very simple lesson, but I guess you're a pretty stupid guy."

He slammed him against the cell bars, bending his arms behind his back until Joker hissed in pain. "I am your master," growled Batman. "When I say kill, you kill. When I say steal, you steal. And when I say crawl, you crawl for me, like the miserable little worm you are."

"If you want me to crawl, you're gonna have to break my legs first," hissed Joker. "Because I'll never do it otherwise."

"Nah, I don't have to break your legs, J," whispered Batman. "I just have to break your mind. And I can do that, trust me."

"Can't break a mind that's already been broken," retorted Joker, smiling at him.

Batman smiled back. "I guess we'll see, won't we?" he murmured.

He threw him to the ground and stormed from the cell.

"Batman, please! Batman! I'll do anything…anything…only let me out!" shouted the other inmates. But the door to the cell block slammed shut and Batman was gone.

Joker climbed slowly to his feet, trying to steady himself from the pain that racked his body. He tried not to feel it as he sat down on the bed. He knew they'd be in any minute to take him away to therapy, and he needed all his strength for that.

He shut his eyes, trying to focus on something that would give him strength. And as usual, his thoughts went to Harley. He remembered, a long time ago now, how he had been lying on the bed in this very cell, racked with unimaginable pain, when he had seen a gorgeous doctor, her pretty blue eyes staring at him, filled with tears. She had unlocked the cell door and come slowly over to his bed, sitting down. And then she had cradled his body gently in her arms, her tears dripping down onto his face and making the pain disappear, almost magically. "You're so brave," she had whispered. "So brave."

Her hands and tears had soothed him, taken the hurt away, and allowed him to sleep. And she was still there when he awoke. He saw the gorgeous doctor often after that, and he would think of her whenever he was tortured, and the pain would be lessened. And one day, after a beating by the guards which had almost left him unable to walk, Harley was sobbing in agony at his pain, and then gently brought her sweet lips down to his and kissed him. "I love you," she whispered, through tearful eyes. "I love you. And I won't let them hurt you again."

He opened his eyes. He had made that promise to her too, but they had both broken it. They didn't have the power to stop the other being hurt. There were forces stronger than them…stronger than their love…

Joker's eyes narrowed in resolution. Nothing was stronger than their love. Certainly not the Bat-monster and his minion doctors. He would never let them win.

The door to his cell opened and two guards appeared. "Therapy time, creep," growled one, tapping his club in the palm of his hand.

Joker stood up. "Let's get this over with," he said, smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

In the cell block at the other end of the asylum, Harley sat on her own bed, her knees clutched tightly against her chest. She heard the door open, and Batman and Dr. Arkham entered. "You explain the situation to the patient," murmured Batman. "I'll be waiting in your office."

"Hey, Batman, if you bust me out, we can have some fun in my garden," murmured Poison Ivy from the neighboring cell, smiling at him.

Batman nodded slowly. "You'll be outta here soon, Ivy," he murmured, heading for the door and shutting it behind him.

Dr. Arkham entered Harley's cell. "Dr. Quinzel…"

"Harley Quinn," insisted Harley, glaring up at him.

"Dr. Quinzel, we have decided to test a new method of therapy on you," continued Dr. Arkham, ignoring her. "It is a method which targets your own particular form of madness, your obsession with the Joker. We believe this form of therapy may break it."

"Nothing can break my love for Mr. J," retorted Harley, firmly.

"Well, you won't know until you try," replied Dr. Arkham, smiling. "You see, your fixation on him, and your willingness to submit yourself to the abusive relationship you suffer in, is based on your ignorance of normal romantic relationships and how they exist. You see abuse and suffering as a natural part of love, when really it is not. This new type of therapy seeks to break you out of this harmful pattern by placing you in a physical relationship with someone else."

Harley stared at him in horror. "You can't make me…"

"Indeed we can, Dr. Quinzel," interrupted Dr. Arkham. "But we do not wish it to come to that. We wish you to be interested in curing yourself of your madness. And the person we wish for you to engage in physical relations with is a man all women want. A handsome, strong, upstanding man. A hero."

Harley's horror grew. "You can't mean…"

"I mean if you voluntarily submit yourself to Batman, he will make you a free woman," murmured Dr. Arkham. "A permanently free woman. You will be out of here forever, as long as you agree to…minister to his physical needs. Come, child, it would be a welcome relief from that clown…"

"That clown is my husband!" shrieked Harley. "And I would never cheat on him!"

"Dr. Quinzel, how many times must we reiterate that your marriage was all in your head, and never occurred in reality?" sighed Dr. Arkham. "Two mad people cannot be married. I think it is a most generous offer on the part of our benefactor. You cannot do better than a hero."

"He's not a hero!" hissed Harley. "He's a monster, a horrible, filthy, disgusting monster, and I would rather die than…"

"Choose your words carefully, my dear," interrupted Dr. Arkham, softly. "If you do refuse this offer, we will be forced to explore a different type of therapy. One which I believe you will find far less pleasant."

"Do your worst!" hissed Harley. "I will never cheat on Mr. J!"

Dr. Arkham smiled and rose. "You are tired from your latest abuse by the Joker," he murmured. "I will give you some time to consider it."

"I don't need time!" shrieked Harley as he left her cell. "I will never do it, do you understand?! Never!"

The door to the cell block slammed shut. "You should consider it," murmured Ivy from next door. "It's not so bad. Better than being in here."

"I could never break Mr. J's heart like that," whispered Harley. "That would be worse than anything in the world."

"J would understand," murmured Ivy. "To spare yourself pain, to free yourself…that's what he'd want, even if he had to suffer for it."

"No," repeated Harley, firmly. "No, Red, I can't even bear to think about it…" She broke off sobbing, burying her face in her hands.

The door to the cell block opened again. "Ivy, Batman's waiting for you outside," muttered one of the guards, opening her cell door.

Ivy smiled in relief. "See? I'm outta here, Harley," she whispered. "Not so hard…and it's worth selling yourself to be free, isn't it?"

The door to the cell block slammed shut again and Harley was left alone. She curled up on her bed again, crying and trying not to panic.

She didn't know how long she sat there, but it must have been hours, when she suddenly heard a soft, grating sound. She looked around, terrified, and noticed that the grate on the floor was shifting. She cast about for something to use as a weapon, when the grate slid off and the Joker slowly emerged from the hole.

"Puddin'!" she gasped, shocked and relieved. And then horrified, to see how battered and bruised he was, as he gingerly tried to pull himself up. She rushed to help him, lifting him gently onto the bed and laying him down.

"Puddin'…how did you…why did you…?" she gasped, tears filling her eyes as she smiled at him. "You know what would happen to us if they found you in here? Are you crazy?"

"Obviously," he retorted, smiling at her.

She beamed, and kissed him tenderly. "Did they beat you again?" she whispered, stroking his hair back.

"Mmm. Good thing I love pain," he added, smiling. "How was your therapy, sweets?"

Harley's smile fell. "It…hasn't happened yet," she murmured. "But they want me to…they want me to…"

She looked down at the floor. He tilted her chin up. "Tell me, Harley," he murmured.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "They've offered to release me permanently if I…become Batman's mistress."

He was silent. "I said no, of course," she continued. "I would never do something like that…I couldn't bear the thought of cheating on you, puddin'…"

"What are they going to do if you refuse?" he asked, quietly.

"I…I dunno," she stammered. "Something bad. But I could never accept that kinda deal…"

"No," murmured Joker. "And we all know how seriously Batman takes deals anyway. He'd probaby dump you back in here the moment he tired of you."

She nodded. "What…can we do, puddin'?" she whispered.

"Right now? Nothing," he replied. "But don't you worry, sweets. I'm gonna find us a way outta here. We escaped once – we can do it again."

"I…I dunno how much time I got before…" began Harley, but she trailed off.

He cupped her face gently in his hands. "So we better not waste a moment of it," he murmured. "We're together, Harley. That's all that matters right now."

She lay down next to him, hugging him tightly. He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Try to sleep," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her gently. "Mr. J's here. And he's not gonna let anyone hurt his Harley girl anymore."

As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, Joker tightened his embrace. He wouldn't be breaking his promise this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Breakfast in Arkham Asylum was a rigid and horribly efficient affair, as everything in the asylum was. The patients had assigned seating, and plates would be placed in front of them, and they had ten minutes to consume any food on it before it was taken away again. The food was appalling, but as they were only provided with two meals a day, breakfast and dinner, everyone usually tried to eat as much as they could. Guards paraded up and down the tables, making sure there was no conversation between the inmates. The only sound was the scraping of plates and forks, and the slow step of the guards, who occasionally paused at the ends of the tables to chat with each other. It was during one of these pauses that the Joker whispered to Two-Face, who was sitting next to him, "Harley and me wanna bust outta here, Harvey."

"Yeah, and I wanna be DA of Gotham City again," muttered Two-Face. "But since I found out Batman was a crook, I got acid sprayed on my face and locked away in here and now everyone thinks I'm crazy. So we can't always get what we want."

"You know what I mean," muttered Joker. "You're the only one in here with any leverage among the staff. Everyone knows you got some of the guards and doctors out of some trouble with the law when you were still practicing. Some of 'em still respect you - you're not treated as badly at the rest of us. What would I have to do to get your friends on my side?"

Two-Face looked at him. "Calling in favors to avoid a beating is one thing, J," he muttered. "It's an entirely different story asking people to help inmates try to break out. Nobody's gonna put their job and probably their life on the line like that just cause I got 'em outta legal trouble once. Believe me, I've tried."

"Then don't let anyone know they're involved," replied Joker. "I'm not asking for a getaway driver or anything. I just need someone in here to be a little careless, just once, and lose a key or something. Can you set that up for me?"

"Maybe," replied Two-Face. "I don't really know why I should help you, though. If this ever got traced back to me…"

"It won't," interrupted Joker. "You'll be clean as a whistle. I'm taking all the responsibility for this if I get caught."

Two-Face nodded slowly. "You're a good guy, J, and I trust you," he muttered. "I'll do what I can. But I dunno why you bother. If you get out, the Bat's just gonna catch you and put you back in here again. That's our life. An endless cycle of fights and struggles and captures. And we always end up back here. Always."

"The Bat can't take us back here again if he's dead," murmured Joker softly.

Two-Face stared at him. "You…think you can kill Batman?" he whispered.

"Why not?" asked Joker, shrugging. "He's only human."

"He's not only human," growled Two-Face. "He's Batman. He's smart and strong and powerful. Unbeatable. Batman always wins, J, you should know that by now. You can't kill him."

"I have to try," retorted Joker. "I can't live like this any longer, Harvey. If you can even call this living. I refuse to be held hostage to the whim of some crazy, sadistic egomaniac for the rest of my life. I just want to be happy, Harvey, with my wife. And that's never going to happen while Batman lives. He'll never let us go. And so he'll have to die."

"You can't kill Batman," repeated Two-Face. "But maybe you can kill the guy behind the mask."

"Any ideas who that is?" asked Joker.

"You two! Stop talking!" shouted a guard, rushing over with his club raised. They instantly silenced as they continued eating. The guard wandered off again, and Two-Face dipped his finger in his glass of water and traced out the words: _Ask the Riddler_ on the table.

After breakfast was an enforced exercise period, half an hour of lifting weights, followed by half an hour of track running and push-ups. Joker looked for the Riddler among the inmates, but didn't see him. He did, however, see the Scarecrow and the Mad Hatter seated next to the track. Both their legs had been broken so they were unable to exercise. Joker suspected they had done this on purpose – the exercise routine could be brutal, and those less physically able had often preferred to harm themselves rather than be subjected to it. It was just another injury, after all. Tetch had crushed his elbow once to get out of weight training, and Nygma had snapped his own fingers. But it was only Tetch and Crane today – Nygma was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Johnny, you seen Eddie Nygma around?" murmured Joker as he paused next to him. "I'd like to have a word with him."

Crane looked at him in horror. "No," he stammered. "No, no, no, I haven't seen Mr. Nygma, I haven't spoken to Mr. Nygma, I don't know anything about Mr. Nygma!"

"Wow, ok, no need to get offended – it was just a question," said Joker, surprised by the extreme reaction.

"He hasn't told me anything, you understand?" continued Crane, becoming more hysterical. "I don't know anything!"

""You can really have no notion how delightful it will be, when they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!" muttered Tetch, clapping his hands over his ears and shutting his eyes tightly. "But the snail replied 'Too far, too far!' and gave a look askance – said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance."

"What the hell is all this racket?" demanded a guard, coming over to them as Tetch continued to babble nonsense. "Joker, this is the second time today you've been caught talking. I think you need to have a talk with Dr. Arkham."

Guards fell upon the Joker and dragged him inside, into the dim light of Dr. Arkham's office. "Joker's been talking, sir," snapped one of the guards, shoving him inside.

"Very good. Thank you for bringing him. Please go," said Dr. Arkham, looking up from the file he was reading and smiling.

The door slammed shut and Dr. Arkham gestured for Joker to sit down. Exhausted from the exercise, Joker didn't refuse. Dr. Arkham took off his glasses and polished them on a handkerchief before replacing them on his nose.

"In a sociable mood today, are we?" he asked, casually. "I don't think I need to remind you that a happy patient is a quiet patient. You've been here long enough to know that."

"I have," retorted Joker. "And I won't be here much longer."

Dr. Arkham smiled. "I admire your optimism," he replied. "And of course we must always pray for a cure to your particular form of madness, however unlikely it may seem."

He picked up another file and studied it. "Real name unknown, alias the Joker," he read. "Deemed incurable and committed for life. Now that doesn't sound to me like you'll be out of here anytime soon, does it?" he asked, smiling at him.

"Call me crazy, but I believe in miracles," retorted Joker.

"I do call you crazy," agreed Dr. Arkham, nodding. "Which is why you're in here."

"You can drop the act," snapped Joker. "We both know why I'm in here. The same reason as everyone else. We're not crazy – we've been cowed by some bully in a bat costume to submit to his insane crime games, and this is where he sends us when he's mad at us. So that we'll be so desperate to leave that we'll agree to an even more insane scheme. Poison Gotham's water supply. Plant bombs around the city. Give a fish my face and then kill random citizens for not giving me my patent to copyright them. What kinda mind comes up with stuff like that? He's the one who should be locked up in here, not me."

Dr. Arkham shook his head. "I understand that your coping mechanism is to blame Batman for your crimes, so as to not take responsibility for them. It's a common enough case among the insane to shift blame…"

"I'm not the police, and I'm not the media," interrupted Joker. "You know what's really going on here. You're not stupid."

"No," agreed Dr. Arkham, quietly. "But you are, if you think you have any chance of escape from this facility. Batman has made it quite clear that particular attention is to be paid to you by our therapists. He wants to intensify your treatment. Whatever you said or did to him, he's angry. I should be very careful about causing any further trouble, if I were you."

"You think I give a damn about how much pain I suffer?" demanded Joker. "You think a little thing like that is gonna make me stop fighting him, when he beats us up night after night anyway?"

Dr. Arkham smiled again. "You think you're so strong, don't you?" he murmured. "But you're not, you know. You're weak, terribly weak. All a man needs is one weakness, you see. Find that, and you can break him with ease. And your weakness has never been hard to discover."

He threw down the file with the name _Harley Quinn _written on the top. "You see, Batman has no weaknesses," murmured Dr. Arkham. "That is why he is invincible."

"No one is invincible," growled Joker. "And if you dare hurt Harley to hurt me, I promise you…"

"I wouldn't begin to threaten me, Joker," murmured Dr. Arkham. "One should never make promises one can't keep. People will begin to think you are not a man of your word, and will cease to trust you."

Dr. Arkham leaned forward. "I _am_ a man of my word," he murmured. "And I promise _you _that if you even think of trying to escape, I will take that pretty young woman you call your wife and let every man in this facility have his way with her. So if I were you, I would stay in line and do as you're told. You'll save yourself and Harley a lot of pain that way."

He sat down again and there was silence as Dr. Arkham shifted through his files again. "Who was it you were talking to?" he asked at last, looking up at him again.

"Two-Face," muttered Joker. "And then Scarecrow."

"And why was that?" asked Dr. Arkham. "Just in the mood for a chat, or was there some purpose to your conversation?"

"I wanted to know if they'd seen the Riddler anywhere," asked Joker.

Dr. Arkham smiled again. "Did you want to chat with Mr. Nygma too?" he asked. "I'm afraid that is quite impossible."

"Is he out on a job at the moment?" asked Joker.

"No," retorted Dr. Arkham. "And nor will he be ever again. Mr. Nygma discovered something Batman didn't want him to know. And so we were forced to extract that knowledge from him."

"What are you talking about?" asked Joker, quietly.

Dr. Arkham stood up again. "Perhaps it would be better to show you," he said. "Follow me."

Under heavy escort, the Joker followed Dr. Arkham down the stairs from the cell block into the solitary confinement wing. They reached a thick, steel door, and Dr. Arkham opened this.

"Edward, you have a friend to see you," he said, smiling at the man within.

Joker stared at Nygma in horror. The walls of his cell was covered in blood, which had been fashioned into bizarre shapes and nonsensical words. Nygma lay huddled in the corner, bleeding and laughing slightly, and he looked up at them with vacant eyes, gibbering incomprehensible jargon.

"What…have you done to him?" gasped Joker.

"Oh, the only reliable cure for when the mind is beyond repair," replied Dr. Arkham, grinning. "A lobotomy."

Nygma screamed words without meaning, pointing frantically to the shapes on the walls and floors. "Oh, and if you happen to sneak into your little slut's cell again tonight, please do tell her that this is the alternative to refusing Batman's most generous offer," murmured Dr. Arkham quietly. "I wonder which she would prefer, don't you?"

Nygma gestured frantically again, becoming hysterical. Dr. Arkham snapped his fingers and the guards entered the cell, beating Nygma until he silenced again. Between moans and sobs, he gazed at Joker with his vacant eyes and pointed to the ground again.

"Please return the patient to his cell," said Dr. Arkham, heading back to his office. As the guards grabbed Joker again and shut the door on Nygma, he pointed firmly one more time to the floor. Joker looked down, and saw the tiniest sentence scratched in a thin layer of blood: _Bruce Wayne is Batman. _

And then the door slammed shut.


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner that night was a silent affair, as usual. About halfway through the meal, Two-Face coughed, covering his hand with his mouth, and slid a small key over to the Joker. "Cell doors," he muttered. "You're on your own once you're out."

And then he returned to eating. Joker nodded gratefully, tucking the key into his pocket. "Once I kill the Bat, I'll be back to free you all," he murmured. "I will kill the Bat this time, Harvey, or die trying."

Two-Face looked up at him. "Goodbye, then, J," he whispered.

Later that night, Joker climbed through the grate into Harley's cell again. She kissed him desperately, and he returned it, pressing her close. "We're getting outta here, baby," he whispered, holding up the key. "Right now."

Harley beamed, and was about to respond, when they suddenly heard the door to the cell block open. "Hide!" gasped Harley, shoving him toward the grate again. He obeyed her, looking up through the grate as he saw three guards entering her cell.

"Well, sweetheart, we've come to hear what you've decided," murmured one. "You gonna choose the Bat or the lobotomy?"

"I…I need some more time to think about it," stammered Harley.

"Sorry, sugar, time's up," he replied. "You just gotta choose where you wanna be drilled."

The other two sniggered. "We're either taking you to the van outside, or to the operating room," he continued, grinning. "Tell me now, sweetheart."

Harley glanced down at the grate, and Joker nodded. She looked back up at the guard. "I'll go to Batman," she murmured.

The guard grinned. "He's a lucky guy," he muttered, touching her cheek. She shook him off.

"Batman wouldn't want to find out another guy had touched his property, would he?" she muttered dangerously.

"Oooh, she's a fiery little minx!" he chuckled. "Oh, Batman's gonna love you, sugar. Let's not keep him waiting."

Harley was dragged from the cell, and Joker followed an instant later. Harley screamed and struggled as much as possible, keeping the guards' attention focused on her so they wouldn't notice the shape creeping behind them.

Thankfully, the distance from the cell block to the door was only past a long row of offices, which were deserted at night, and then past reception. Joker avoided the eyes of the security guard by sinking to the floor and crawling in front of his desk, although the guard's attention was focused on Harley anyway as they dragged her, screaming, from the asylum, secured a blindfold over her eyes, and shoved her into a van. Joker dashed out the doors, hiding in the undergrowth as one of the guards locked the van doors. The other two climbed into the front seat. Joker dashed over to the guard locking the door and clapped a hand over his mouth, twisting his neck and snapping it instantly. He reached for the doors, but the van drove off at that moment. Joker watched it for a second before bending down and picking up the gun at the dead guard's belt. He could shoot out the tires, but there was a risk the van would tip over and Harley would get hurt. Instead he reached into the dead guard's pocket and grabbed his set of car keys, pressing the unlock button. The lights flashed on a car not too far away, and Joker raced over to it, jumping inside and shoving the key in the ignition. He sped toward the huge, iron gates, which had just allowed the van through and were now closing.

Joker slammed on the brakes suddenly, leaping out of the car and firing two shots into the men in the guardstation. Then he raced inside, finding the lever that controlled the gate and pushing it. The sound of the shots had alerted more guards, and they came pouring out of the asylum, firing at Joker as he hurried back into the car. He kept his head down and revved the engine, speeding out into the streets of Gotham.

It wasn't long before he heard cars in pursuit of him, joined by police sirens. He took a deep breath, wondering how he could lose them. He glanced down at his gun – he only had four bullets, and he was saving one for Batman. He could shoot out their tires, maybe, but not while he was driving. What he needed was some kind of trick…

And then he had an idea. He turned the car quickly, remembering they were repairing the bridge on 48th Street. It was only a few minutes from here – he could outrun them.

He wove in between the traffic, but the cars remained on his tail. The bridge was close – there were barriers and no entry signs on the run up to it. He crashed through these, speeding up the car. He saw the other cars slowing down and slamming to a halt. He sent his own flying off the broken section of the bridge, and plunging into the water.

The moment he hit the river, he rolled the window down, taking a deep breath. The car filled with water and he swam out, heading for the river bank. He reached it and pulled himself up, looking back up at the bridge and at the flashlights shining into the water. He was on his feet again in an instant, heading toward a road, any road.

It wasn't long before a cab came along. Joker tightened his jaw and pulled out his gun, shooting the driver through the windshield. Then he opened the door, shoving the body out, and sped the car as fast as he could toward Wayne Manor. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

…

Batman had opened the door to his late-night visitors himself, wearing his mask. He smiled when he saw a blind-folded Harley struggling between two guards. "Thank you," he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her inside. "Please send my regards to Dr. Arkham."

He shut the front door and pulled Harley's blindfold off. She wrenched herself away from him. "Don't you dare touch me!" she snapped.

Batman smiled, and then grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back so she screamed. "Perhaps Dr. Arkham didn't make the terms of the deal clear enough to you," he hissed. "You are now my property, Harley. I can touch my property if I want. I can do anything I like with my property," he murmured, sliding a hand down her waist.

"I am the Joker's wife," hissed Harley. "He's the only man who has the right to touch me."

"I know," murmured Batman. "And that knowledge makes the thought of what I'm going to do to you so much sweeter."

He inhaled the scent of her hair, shutting his eyes. "The Joker is so proud, so arrogant, he thinks he's so much better than me," he whispered. "And now the thing he values most in this world is here, in my hands, in my power. I've dreamed about this for a long time, Harley."

"So have I," whispered Harley, and she kneed upward suddenly, slamming her knee into his crotch. Batman gasped in pain, falling back, and Harley spun away from him. She seized the poker by the fireplace and held it in front of her like a weapon. "Now let me go," she muttered.

Batman grinned. "I can see why J likes you," he whispered. "Are you always so feisty, Harley? I like that. Most women are just so overwhelmed by the idea of having Batman that they're completely submissive. But I'm the kinda guy who enjoys a little fight, as I'm sure you know. So fight me, baby, c'mon. If you win, I'll let you outta here. If I win, you're mine. Deal?"

"I don't trust you," snapped Harley.

"It's not like you have a choice, is it?" he murmured. And without warning, he started forward. Harley lashed out at him with the poker, slamming the iron into his face. He grimaced in pain but seized her wrist. She kicked him hard in the shins, making him let go, and then struck him across the chest, leaping backward as he started forward to grab her. She glanced back and saw a table behind her, and she jumped up, backflipping over it, and kicking it forward so it hit Batman square in the chest. While he was knocked back, she jumped up onto it again, kicking him in the face and knocking him to the ground. She stood over him with the poker raised.

"Now I'm outta here," she whispered, breathing heavily. "Don't try to follow me."

"Ok, baby, a deal's a deal," he said, nodding. He suddenly grabbed her leg and pulled it forward, knocking her off balance. She lay winded on her back for a moment and he climbed on top of her.

"Remember how I don't believe in deals, baby?" he whispered, grinning at her. "Not when you can just use force to take what you want."

He had one of her hands pinned, but she struck at him with her free hand, seizing his mask and suddenly ripping it off him. She gaped in astonishment. "Bruce…Wayne?" she stammered. "But why…"

"Why would I wanna spend every night making up crimes and fighting bad guys?" interrupted Bruce, grinning. "For the fun of it, of course, baby. After my parents died, I needed revenge on the scum of this city. So I tried to stop crime, but there's just too much of it. And you know the saying, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So that's what I did. And see, when you're as rich as I am, and you have everything you want, you get bored real quick. And when you've got willing slaves to steal all this money for me, what else am I gonna spend it on but elaborate schemes and gadgets? Oh, I guess I could give it to charity and be some kinda philanthropist, but that's a boring way to be a hero. I'd rather be a real superhero, a crime-fighting vigilante, but I got bored of the petty criminals real quick. I needed people who were a real challenge, who could match my wits, and then I realized that nobody could match my wits but me. And it's so much fun, you know, baby, making up crimes in the style of different criminals. Jokes for the Joker, riddles for the Riddler, well, up until recently of course, plant crimes for Ivy, two-related crimes for Two-Face, Wonderland crimes for the Mad Hatter, fear crimes for Scarecrow. So many different villains, so many different possibilities, and each one ending in a great, big fight. And so I'm never bored, you see, Harley. Not anymore."

"You're crazy!" gasped Harley, but he seized her wrist at that moment, slamming her other arm down.

"Yeah, and you like crazy, doncha, baby?" he whispered, smiling at her. "Has J ever told you about the night I created him?"

"You…pushed him into a vat of acid," stammered Harley.

"I did," he murmured, stroking her face with his lips. "I did it deliberately, shoving him into that vat of churning chemicals. I smiled as I watched him fall, seeing how scared he looked. I thought I had killed him, you know, but when he emerged and was…different…I knew it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I had created another freak to terrorize Gotham, and I was gonna make the most of him. He resisted at first, of course, they all did. But even the Joker caved in the end – even he did as I ordered him to, and it's all thanks to you. The man he hated more than anyone else in the world, and he bowed to my will. Can you imagine what that's like for him, baby? Can you imagine how weak and helpless and powerless that makes him feel? I really should thank you – you've broken him more than I ever could. And now I'm gonna break him, and you, at the same time," he whispered, licking her cheek.

"I won't let you…" began Harley, but she screamed as a shot rang out, and blood splattered in her face. Bruce roared in pain as a bullet impacted with his shoulder, and he whirled around to see the Joker standing behind him, dripping wet and holding a gun aimed at his head.

"Get offa her now," he growled.

Bruce grinned, seizing Harley in his arms and standing up, holding her in front of him and using her as a shield. "You shoot me and you shoot Harley, J," he murmured. "So somehow I don't think you will."

Joker didn't respond, still pointing the gun at him. "Mr. J, do it!" gasped Harley. "Kill him, please! He has to be stopped!"

"Not a good time to be noble, sweetheart," hissed Bruce, bending her arms behind her back and making her scream. "Besides, J's not a noble guy, are you, J?" he murmured, smiling at him. "You wouldn't sacrifice your little blonde slut just to free this city of the Batman, would you?"

In response, Joker aimed his gun lower, firing again and hitting Bruce in the leg. He howled in pain, releasing Harley, who raced over to the Joker, clutching him tightly. Joker raised his gun again, aiming for Bruce's face. He had one shot…

And he wasted it. Just as he pulled the trigger, Bruce fell to the ground, the bullet hitting the wall behind him instead. Bruce inched toward the sofa as the Joker threw down the gun, picking up the poker Harley had dropped instead. He looked down at Bruce and struck him violently across the face with it.

"Remember this?" hissed Joker, as he continued to beat Bruce with the poker as he howled in pain. "Remember when you made me beat your little sidekick to death with a crowbar because he had mouthed off to you? He screamed just like you are right now. I felt bad then. I don't now. I can still hear his screams in my ears, every night, that poor little kid who didn't do anything to deserve so horrible a death," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "Not like you, Batman. You deserve a much slower death than this, but this feels just, somehow. You like justice, don't you, Batman? Well, this…is…justice!" he shouted, slamming the poker down harder.

"You talk too much, J," gasped Bruce, smiling up through the blood on his face. "You always have. Should have learned not to do that a long time ago, and just shoot me!" he shouted, reaching into a drawer by the sofa and pulling out a pistol. He fired it, hitting the Joker in the arm, who staggered backward, gasping in pain.

Bruce fired again and missed, and Harley didn't waste anymore time. She seized Joker by his good arm and dragged him toward the door. Bruce continued to fire blindly, his pain interfering with his aim. Harley wrenched open the door and pulled Joker outside, racing down the steps to the stolen taxi. She shoved Joker into the passenger seat and leapt into the driver's seat, starting the car and driving off. Bruce had dragged himself to the door and watched the disappearing car, smiling through the pain. "See you soon, J," he whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" murmured Joker.

Harley couldn't help smiling. It was about the hundredth time he had asked that. "No, Mr. J, he didn't," she whispered, dipping the rag in water and trailing it up his wounded arm, wiping the blood off.

"I just…I don't know what I would have done, Harl," he whispered. He was clutching her free hand tightly in his, squeezing her fingers so hard that it hurt. "I don't know what I would have done if he had hurt you."

Harley bent over and kissed him tenderly. "He didn't hurt me," she repeated. "But you are right now," she said, smiling as she pressed his fingers.

"Sorry," he whispered, loosening his grip.

"I don't mind," she murmured, kissing him again. "My puddin' can give me pain if he wants to."

"I would never want to do that," he whispered. He flinched suddenly, shutting his eyes. "But you gotta get the bullet out, Harl."

"I know," she whispered, rubbing the cloth gently over his wound. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he muttered.

She nodded, reaching for a pair of tweezers. She leaned gently over his chest, bringing her face down close to his arm. She felt his grip on her free hand tightening as she put the tweezers to the wound and dug in.

He tensed, gasping in agony. Harley shushed him, desperately trying to find the bullet and end his suffering. His grip on her hand was hurting again, but she felt that was only right, to be able to share his pain. Then she felt metal on metal and grasped the tiny bullet between the tweezers, pulling it slowly out of his arm. He was crying out in agony, but then it was out, and Harley had brought her mouth down to the wound, kissing it sweetly.

And then she pressed her mouth into his, climbing on top of him and kissing him passionately. "Not so bad, huh?" she asked, caressing the wound with her tender fingers.

"Nah uh," he agreed, cupping her around the back of her neck and pulling her back down to him. "But I kinda hope you will be," he murmured, smiling in between kisses.

The night passed. Neither of them slept. As sunlight slowly began to stream its way through the thin curtains of their hideout, Harley whispered, "What are we gonna do, puddin'?"

"Right now?" he murmured, smiling and snuggling against her. "I'm kinda just enjoying cuddling my naked wife in bed. But if you wanted more…" he began, kissing her slowly.

"That's not what I mean," she murmured, grinning. "I mean what are we gonna do about Batman?"

He sighed. "It's always Batman," he muttered. "Let's not think about him now, ok, pooh?"

"Puddin', we need to kill him," she whispered. "Soon. Now, while he's wounded, we may have a chance of beating him."

"Yes, pumpkin," he whispered. "But right now, you're more important than he is."

"Killing Batman would be the best thing you could do for me," she whispered, gazing at him seriously. "For all of us. Especially since…I don't know how much longer I can help you fight him."

He drew away from her, surprised. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "I don't have a chance in hell of beating him without my Harley girl's help. I need her by my side to put a smile on my face."

"Well…you ain't the only one your Harley girl is gonna have to be thinking about," she whispered, smiling softly. "Not anymore."

He stared at her and she smiled, taking his hand and placing it on her belly. "Oh…my God," he gasped. "Harley, are you…"

"I'm gonna have your baby, puddin'," she whispered, beaming. "I…found out a few weeks ago, but I didn't wanna tell you, because I…wasn't very happy about it. I didn't wanna bear a child into this horrible world of darkness and night and suffering. But now there's…a hope that we can kill the Bat. A hope that the darkness will end. And maybe our child can come into a world of sunshine and joy and happiness instead."

"Oh…Harley," he gasped. "Oh, Harley, that's wonderful!" he cried, seizing her in his arms and hugging her tightly. "Oh, baby, we gotta take care of you! Tell me what I can do to help you. Say anything, baby, and I'll do it," he whispered, kissing her tenderly.

She took his hand and held it tightly. "We need to kill Batman," she whispered. "Now."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he whispered. "But now that we know who he is, he's gonna have security around Wayne Manor. We're not going to be able to hurt him directly."

"How then, puddin'?" she asked.

He sat up slowly, reaching for his clothes. "We're gonna use the law to stop him," he murmured. "Beat him at his own game. He knows we'll attack him. But he won't be expecting this."

"The law ain't gonna help us, puddin'," whispered Harley. "They're on his side. They think we're the bad guys."

"Then we have to prove to them that we're not," he murmured. "You don't have to come with me, Harley. I don't want you in any danger, especially not with the baby…"

"It'd be dangerous for me to stay here on my own," she interrupted, sitting up. "And I need to be by your side, puddin'. You wouldn't be the Joker without your smile, after all."

He touched her stomach again. "I'll never stop smiling again, sweets," he whispered, beaming. He kissed her and she pulled him down on top of her, pressing him against her so tightly and wishing she never had to let him go.


	8. Chapter 8

The doorbell rang, and Commissioner Gordon rose to answer it. He opened it and his thoughts flashed back to a time, some years ago now, when this same person had been standing on his doorstep, and had shot his daughter through the spine, crippling her for life. It wasn't fear that filled him when he saw that clown face – it was rage. And he would have started beating it to a bloody pulp when a hammer blow struck him on the head, knocking him unconscious.

"I am sorry for the rude welcome, Commissioner," murmured a voice as Gordon opened his eyes later. "But I knew you wouldn't listen to me unless you were all tied up."

"What are you going to do to me?" demanded Gordon, glaring at the Joker, who stood in front of him. Harley Quinn was seated on the sofa, holding Joker's hand tightly while her other hand clasped the giant, wooden hammer that had hit him in the first place.

Joker sat down next to Harley, never letting go of her hand. "I'm going to talk to you," he murmured. "And you are going to listen."

"I don't wanna hear a single word a disgusting, murdering psychopath like you has to say!" growled Gordon.

"Really? But you have no problem summoning Batman to help you out in a tight spot, do you?" asked Joker, quietly.

"Oh, not this again," snapped Gordon. "From day one you've been spouting that crap, that Batman's just as crazy as the rest of you. He isn't. He's a hero. The things he does are right. The things you do are wrong, like shooting my little girl through the spine. And once I get outta these ropes, I'm gonna make you pay for that."

Joker was silent. "I say it because it's true," he murmured. "I'm not a liar, Commissioner, and I'm not a joker. It's not a persona I chose for myself. My clown appearance was an unfortunate result of Batman pushing me into a vat of chemicals. In reality, I'm not a very happy guy. Or at least, I wasn't until I met my Harley girl," he said, smiling at her as he clutched her hand. "I…think that was his plan all along," he murmured, his face falling again. "Make me into the Joker. Someone unreliable, a kidder, a trickster, so nobody can trust a word I say. He knew I wouldn't stop trying to make the world see the truth about him. And so what better way to disguise the truth than with a joke?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded Gordon.

"I have something to show you," murmured Joker, reaching into his pocket. "Something which relates to that unfortunate incident you mentioned earlier. An incident which is one of the many memories that fills me with horror and makes me unable to sleep at night."

"I ain't never seen puddin' get a decent night's sleep," murmured Harley, stroking his hair tenderly. "He just lies awake, and when he does eventually drop off, he wakes up screaming people's names. I can't tell you how many times he's screamed Barbara's."

Joker leaned forward and showed Gordon a letter. It was typewritten, and short: _Cripple the bitch, or I'll cripple yours_. This terse sentence was followed by a small symbol in the shape of a Bat. Batman's symbol.

"I don't understand what this…" began Gordon.

"It's the note I got from Batman when he ordered me to shoot Barbara," murmured Joker. "Normally he just calls – it's much safer that way, not to leave written proof, and he has monitors on the phones to make sure nobody can wiretap him. Anyway, he did call me and ordered me to do this, but I hung up on him. I refused to answer the phone – I refused to leave the house so he couldn't find me. But then one day this appeared through the letterbox, and I knew there was no escaping it. He would always find me. I waited to do it, as long as I could, but he found me one night and told me I had to do it now, or he'd hurt Harley. I asked him to give me a reason, any reason I could tell my conscience, some excuse to make me better able to bear this horrible deed I had to do. I asked him why he wanted Barbara crippled. And do you know what he said? He said, 'She didn't wanna have sex with me. So I wanna make sure she can never have sex again.'"

Gordon stared at him. "You're…you're lying," he stammered. "That note's a fake - Batman would never…"

"Don't you think it's a little bit funny, Commissioner, how Batman always arrives just in the nick of time? And always seems to be able to figure out the villains' cryptic plans? And always, always wins?"

"He's the World's Greatest Detective…" began Gordon.

"He's the world's greatest psychopath," interrupted Joker. "But psychopaths can be so clever, Commissioner, and so charismatic. So good at pulling the wool over everyone's eyes and twisting the truth. And Batman's a very intelligent man. He's got this whole scam running perfectly, like a military operation. Every cog fits, everyone acts the way they're supposed to, and there's never a wrench in the works. He gets to play hero, the city loves him, and nobody gives a damn for the lunatics whose lives he's ruined, because they're just crazy monsters, after all, and they deserve to be beat up night after night. Don't you agree with that, Commissioner? I don't blame you if you do. See, that's the ingenious thing about Batman, and it's right there in plain sight. He's the Dark Knight. He plays on the darkness within us. He's a reflection of our own darkness, and rather than confront that, we shy away from it. The things he does are wrong, and unlawful, but the police turn a blind eye to it because on the surface they appear to be good and right. He's using the light to blind you to the darkness of his true purpose, and it works. It's worked for so many years. But it has to stop now. I can't play his twisted little games anymore, or I really will be driven mad."

"You _are _mad," hissed Gordon. "All of this is just crazy talk…"

"Don't you ever wonder why Gotham is the only city in the world with supervillains?" murmured Joker, quietly. "Why other cities don't seem to have a problem with costumed lunatics? People seem to think Gotham attracts the freaks, and that's partially true. Because this is Batman's city, and we are the terror he inflicts upon it, night after night, for his own sick game. He creates us, and he uses us. And we can't leave. And we can't stop. We just have to keep playing the game, night after night, and try to keep our sanity, our pride, and some small remnant of our humanity in tact. And you have no idea how difficult that is after killing and maiming thousands of people, like I have."

He looked up at him. "I am so sorry about Barbara," he murmured, tears in his eyes. "I'm more sorry than you'll ever know. But it's…so hard to tell right from wrong, sometimes. Maybe it was wrong of me to hurt her, but it would also have been wrong of me to let Harley suffer. And how can you do the right thing when the only options you have are wrong? I never wanted to be a hero, Commissioner. I never wanted to be a villain either. I just wanted to be happy. But Batman's even managed to make that idea repugnant, forcing me to make sick, twisted jokes out of happiness and laughter and smiles so that even those things begin to repel me. He's tried to destroy happiness for me, Commissioner. He…hasn't succeeded, thank God," he murmured, looking at Harley again and laying a hand on her belly. "But he's evil. And he has to be stopped. You have to help me do that."

"Help you?" repeated Gordon. "You really are crazy, aren't you?"

Joker stood up suddenly. "Can't you understand that I'm not the bad guy?!" he shouted, suddenly furious. "I don't want to hurt anyone except Batman! Once I take him down, I'll give up being the bad guy forever, and so will all the other supervillains! He's the reason we all do this, night after night! And if you don't help me end the madness now, it will never stop! I can't let him win again! I won't!"

"Puddin', shh," whispered Harley, standing up and soothing him gently, pulling him back down on the sofa. "Shh, it's ok. He's gotta believe us. It's the truth. He's a police officer, he's a good guy – he can tell when people are telling the truth. Can't you, Commissioner?" she asked, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes.

Gordon nodded slowly. "I…have no doubt you believe what you're saying," he murmured, quietly.

"Then believe this," hissed Joker, glaring at him. "My wife is going to have a baby. I will not let that baby be born into a city that's little more than a playground for a criminal lunatic. Gotham has to get some self-respect back. It has to depend on the people the law has entrusted to do its work for it. And so do I."

Joker held out his hand. "Will you help me kill Batman, Commissioner?"

Gordon glared at him. "I understand it is difficult for you to accept that he's not a hero," murmured Joker, quietly. "The destruction of our idols is always painful. But you have to understand the truth. You _are _a good guy, and you know right from wrong. Don't you?"

Gordon didn't respond. "Do I look like I'm joking now?" murmured Joker. Gordon looked back at his pleading, sincere eyes, one hand stroking Harley's stomach gently, and the other held tentatively out to him.

"Untie me," growled Gordon.

Joker obeyed instantly, flicking out a knife and cutting through his ropes. Gordon looked at him a moment longer, and then took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Can you be at the roof of the GCPD, where the Batsignal is, at midnight?" asked Gordon. "I'll call him, and when he arrives…we'll be waiting for him."

Joker nodded. "I'll see you at midnight," he murmured, heading for the door.


	9. Chapter 9

Batman landed on the roof of the GCPD, in response to the Batsignal, to find it deserted. His phone rang and he snarled, answering it. "What?" he snapped.

"Sir, this…ice rink you want me to attack…" said the soft voice of Victor Freeze.

"What about it?" demanded Batman, wincing at the pain in his leg.

"It's just…there are women and children, sir…"

"So?"

"I…don't think it would be right…"

"I don't pay you to think, I pay to commit violent crimes!" snarled Batman. "So get to it, or I'm gonna pull the plug on your wife, that crystal clear enough for you, Ice Man?!"

He hung up the phone, massaging his shoulder. "Bunch of idiots," he muttered.

"You've given your last orders, Batman," murmured a voice. Batman turned to see the Joker emerging from the shadows, with Harley Quinn behind him, hammer raised. "I've told Gordon the truth. And he's waiting here to arrest you. He's probably just heard that phone call."

Batman smiled. "You told Gordon the truth, and he believed you?" he asked, sarcastically. "You? The Joker?"

"He's a good guy," whispered Harley. "He can tell right from wrong."

Batman smiled again. "No. I don't really think he can," he whispered.

He snapped his fingers and a perimeter of lights flared on, surrounding Joker and Harley, along with a circle of police officers, guns pointed at them. Commissioner Gordon stepped forward. "I contacted Batman after you left," he muttered. "We set this up. That whole phone call was an added bonus, to make them think you were playing along with their game, huh, Batman?" he asked.

"That's right, Jim," murmured Batman.

"Very smart," said Gordon, nodding. "Which is more than I can say for you, Joker. How stupid do you think I am, to think I was gonna trust the word of a certified psychopath like you? Did you really expect me to believe that, after all this time, Batman was the bad guy?"

Joker scanned the faces of the circle of police officers, resting on Gordon at last. "No," he murmured, quietly. "I guess, after all this time, you would have thought the whole thing was some great, big, horrible joke." He forced a smile. "And it is," he said, laughing suddenly, a terrible, desperate laugh. "It is!"

He held up his hands. "Just kill me now, Bats," he said, grinning. "Go on. I'm not going to play the game anymore."

"Trust you to think this is all some sick, twisted game," muttered Batman. "But I don't kill, remember?"

"No. You just get everyone else to kill for you!" spat Joker, furiously. "But I won't do it anymore, do you understand me?! I can't take anymore blood on my hands! After awhile it just makes you…go crazy!"

He kept laughing hysterically, falling down to his knees. Harley rushed to comfort him, and he took her face in his hands. "He's won, sweets," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "Batman always wins. Batman…"

He choked suddenly as a bullet embedded itself in his heart. Harley screamed, watching the blood slowly spreading across his chest as he sank into her arms. "No!" she cried. "No, no, no, puddin', please! Please! Please don't leave me! Please don't die! Please, baby, come back to me!"

She kissed him desperately as Batman slowly turned to see Gordon's gun drawn and smoking. "Sorry, Batman," he muttered. "I know you don't like killing. But if you had heard the horrible things he said about you, about you being the bad guy and planning all the psychos' schemes and…saying you ordered him to cripple Barbara. Well, that's for Barbara, you sick freak!" he shouted.

Joker's eyes were growing glassy – he reached a hand up to touch Harley's face, streaming with tears. "I love you, baby," he whispered, forcing a smile. "Guess this serves me right, though. Trying to be a hero. There…there ain't no such thing, sweets. But God…I love you so much."

"I love you too, puddin'," she whispered. "And…you'll always be my hero. I love you."

She kept repeating those words, kissing him and stroking his hair soothingly until the light in his eyes went out. She lowered the lids gently, clasping his body tightly against her and rocking back and forth, wailing in agony. Then she stood up, turning to face Gordon.

"Kill me too!" she gasped, holding out her arms. "Go on, you monster! I don't have anything left to live for!"

Gordon sheathed his gun. "I wouldn't kill a pregnant woman," he muttered. "I'm not a bad guy."

He gestured for a police officer to drag her away, as she fought and struggled to get back to the Joker's body. Gordon turned to Batman. "I am sorry…" he repeated.

"Don't be," murmured Batman. "What's done is done. And who's to say that in the long run, it's not better that he's gone? He was the worst of all of them. He killed more people than the others put together. Gotham will be safer because of his death. Perhaps it's all for the best."

Gordon nodded, clapping him on the back. "At least right and justice has prevailed," he said.

"Yes," agreed Batman, looking at Joker's body. "It has."

And he smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Nine Months Later…**

Batman kicked open the doors to Arkham Asylum, dragging the Mad Hatter behind him, struggling and screaming. "Arkham, where the hell…" he began, looking around at the dark, empty lobby.

But suddenly the door slammed shut behind him, and the lights flicked on. Batman was momentarily blinded, but when his eyes adjusted to the light, a pang of horror sliced across his heart.

Blood and bodies covered the asylum. Dr. Ezekial Arkham's body was manacled to the wall, barely recognizable through the gashes that littered every piece of it. And written in blood over the head were the words: _For the Joker. And you're next…_

Batman had no sooner read that when a burst of pain shot into him as a blade buried itself in his back. He turned to see Two-Face, covered in blood, and smiling at him.

Batman raised a fist to fight back, when another blade sank into his back. He screamed again as the Scarecrow, Freeze, and the Mad Hatter joined in too, stabbing him repeatedly.

In another corner of the asylum, Harley's screams echoed Batman's own as Poison Ivy held her hand, trying to soothe her, as Harley's baby forced its way out of her body. "It's almost over, Harley," whispered Ivy, comfortingly. "Almost over…"

Batman fell to the ground, feeling the blood seeping out of him and lacking the strength to stand. He gazed up through blurred vision at the faces of the lunatics, coated in blood. "You made monsters outta all of us, in the end, Batman," murmured Two-Face, kneeling down beside him. "Isn't that just what you wanted?"

Batman gasped, agony blinding him. "This should really be Harley's honor," murmured Two-Face. "But she's busy delivering Joker Junior into this world, this big, bright, beautiful world without Batman. So here's a little joke for you, Batman, since you were so keen to make J say 'em. The bad guy won in the end. The Joker won in the end. Don't that make you wanna laugh?"

Batman opened his mouth, but never got to respond. Two-Face shoved his knife between his eyes, killing him instantly. At that moment, Harley gave one final scream, and then they heard the crying of a baby.

Ivy bent down and handed the baby to Harley, who held it tightly against her chest. "Oh, sweetie, you're so beautiful," she gasped, "Oh, your Daddy would have loved you."

"You ok, Harley?" asked Two-Face, entering her cell.

"Yeah," she whispered, smiling sadly. "You wanna say hi to little J.J., Harvey? He looks just like his Daddy."

Two-Face smiled down at the child. "Brought the kid a little birthday present," he said, holding up Batman's head.

Harley smiled. "I know I shouldn't be happy that anyone's dead," she whispered. "But I am."

J.J. started crying and Harley shushed him gently. "Oh no, baby, smile," she whispered, tears in her own eyes. "Be happy. The monster is dead. We're free. Your…your Daddy would be so happy. He'd be laughing. I can still hear him laughing…"

She clutched the baby tightly to her, shutting her eyes, as, through the window, slowly and feebly, and for the first time in a long time, a streak of daylight appeared above the horizon.


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"There we go, J.J., all tucked in," said Harley, tucking the covers around J.J. and kissing his forehead gently. "You go to sleep now."

"Tell me a story, Mommy," pleaded J.J. "Please? I'm not tired."

Harley sighed, but she couldn't refuse her son anything. "Ok. What story do you wanna hear, baby?"

"Tell me about Daddy!" he exclaimed, beaming. "That's my favorite one! Daddy was such a great hero, wasn't he, Mommy?"

Harley smiled. "Your Daddy was the greatest hero in the world, J.J.," she whispered. "We used to live together in this dark, terrible city called Gotham. It was always dark there, always night, and everyone was frightened, because the city had been cursed by a terrible Batman. He was half-man, half-bat, and he stalked the night, capturing our friends, and hurting us, and sending us into a terrible prison called Arkham Asylum. There was no escape from Arkham Asylum, unless the Batman let us out again, only to stalk us and hurt us some more. And everyone was afraid of him. Aunt Ivy, Uncle Two-Face…"

"But Aunt Ivy and Uncle Two-Face are so nice!" protested J.J. "Why would anyone wanna hurt them, or you, or Daddy?"

"Because the Batman was a very evil creature," whispered Harley. "And everyone was very scared of him. Except your Daddy. Your Daddy was the handsomest, bravest, most heroic man in the whole wide world. But sometimes, J.J., people are blinded by the darkness. And they sometimes don't see the heroes in the shadows, or mistake them for villains. And the Batman's shadow was so dark, that it blinded everyone, and they thought we were all monsters like the Batman. And sometimes it take a hero to make people see the light. Sometimes it takes a hero to sacrifice himself to make others find their courage. And so that's what your father did. He died for me, for you, and for everyone. And after his death, the fear lifted. Our friends fought back against the Batman, and they won. They killed the Batman, and once the monster was dead, the curse was broken. Daylight returned to Gotham, but we all left there, never to return. See, when you live in the darkness for so long…sometimes it hurts to come into the light. But it's worth it in the end. Whatever pain the night inflicts…it washes away in the light of day."

She wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Better to sleep through the darkness if you can, J.J.," she whispered, kissing his forehead again. "I wish I could."

"Why can't you sleep, Mommy?" asked J.J.

Harley smiled sadly. "Your Daddy could never sleep very well at night," she murmured. "And since he's been gone…neither can I. I guess I'm afraid of the dark without my hero to comfort me."

J.J. sat up, throwing his arms around her neck. "Don't be afraid, Mommy," he whispered, firmly. "I'm gonna be a hero when I grow up, just like Daddy. I'll protect you from the dark, and the monsters, just like he did."

Harley smiled. "I know you will, J.J.," she whispered. "Go to sleep now, sweetheart."

Harley returned to her bedroom, curling up on the bed and touching a framed picture of the Joker she always kept on the pillow. "You'll always be my hero," she whispered, shutting her eyes and remembering his voice, his laugh, his smile, fighting back against the darkness, and winning.

**The End**


End file.
